


My Life For Theirs

by Goldenpetal13



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: AU, Blackwall/Josephine Montilyet Background, Cassandra Pentaghast/Varris Tethras Background, Dagna/Sera Background, F/F, F/M, Game levels of racism, Game levels of sexism, Iron Bull/Dorian Pavus Background, M/M, Modern Girl in Thedas, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Video Game level of violence, first person POV
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-20
Updated: 2016-08-05
Packaged: 2018-06-09 14:06:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6910336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Goldenpetal13/pseuds/Goldenpetal13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Modern girl in Thedas AU. </p><p>It was a simply choice. My life for my family’s lives. My life for my whole Universe. Now I just have to survive for as long as possible, righting as many wrongs as I can. The only thing set in stone is I won’t be getting out of this alive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Breath of Life

**Author's Note:**

> So... Supposed to be working on other WIPs, kind of got side tracked. Also unknown posting schedule.  
> And not a self insert, I wouldn't last a day in Thedas, I'm far too clumsy. Plus I'm fairly certain I'd say the wrong thing to Cassandra/Leliana, and wouldn't make it out of the dungeon.

I gasp in a lungful of air.

 

The sound echoes loudly where I’m kneeling.  Cold seeps into my legs from the stone beneath me.  Blinking my eyes open, I stare dumbfounded at the stone I’m on.  A sun symbol is carved into the hard surface. A sun symbol that lights up with a wave of green light, as pain explodes into my left hand, and another gasp is ripped from me

 

When the pain fades, I turn my left palm over, a metallic rattle coming from the thick shackles circling my wrists.  In the middle of my left palm that green light flashes again, I can’t help but stare at it even more confused than before.  Where the hell am I?  What the hell happened to me?  Where is my family? Are they safe?

 

And why is this all so very familiar? As if I’ve seen this somewhere before.

 

A door slams open.  In the doorway stands the silhouette of someone who sparks a memory.  This is familiar. I know who this person is.  More clanking of metal as she walks towards me.  Around me swords are sheathed.  Swords belonging to men I’d not noticed before.  Men standing in what looks surprisingly like a dungeon.

 

Behind the woman, another slips in, silently, her feet soundlessly carrying her behind her friend.  Wait.  How do I know they’re friends?  And why do I think the second woman is more dangerous than the first?

 

In the darkness of the possible dungeon, it’s hard to make these women out. The first one walks behind me.  Leaning down she harshly asks, “Tell me why we shouldn’t kill you now.”  It’s not even a question.  Her accent adds to the harshness and goosebumps break out over my arms.  She’s serious.  She’s honestly serious about murdering me.

 

“What?” I scrabble about for an answer.  Just moments ago I was standing in my garden, surrounded by family, welcoming a new granddaughter.  And now, for some reason, I have to give her an answer.  The briefest thought of my family makes my back go up, why the hell do I have to justify living to this woman?  “I don’t know,” When in doubt I tend to go for sarcasm.  “Why shouldn’t you murder me? Hmm, let me think. Oh yeah, because murder is illegal.” I rattle my shackles, “As is kidnapping, false imprisonment, and whatever other messed up things, you think you can get away with.”  I twist my body so I can look up at her.  “Let me go now, and when you’re arrested, and put on trial for this, I’ll speak on your behalf.  Releasing me unharmed can only help you.”

 

Bollocks.  Did I just do that wrong?  I’m sure I’ve read something, somewhere, about sympathising with your captor, getting them to trust you.  Or was that escape.  Damn it, how did this happen to me?

 

Hang on, she had an accent.  Am I even in the UK anymore?  Maybe I should try, “I’m sure you’re aware of the Geneva Convention.”  Most people in many countries are.  “There are minimums you have to provide for people.” I have absolutely no idea what they actually are.  It’s not like its something that’s ever come up for me before.  “International law demands it.”  I really hope that’s something I can hide behind.

 

Instead of answering me she walks to my left, “The Conclave is destroyed. Everyone who attended is dead.” Her voice conveys so much emotion, it almost throbs with pain.

 

Conclave?  What conclave? And, “Are you even listening to me?” I mutter under my breath.  I really don’t need an insane person handling whatever the hell this is.

 

Coming around to my front, she points at me, “Except for you.”  And that is an accusation if I’ve ever heard one.

 

“You think I’m responsible?” Slips out and I stare at her in shock.  How the hell would I be able to destroy this Conclave?  I have no idea what it is; let alone how to destroy it.  All I want is to be back in my garden with my family.  We’re welcoming little Cassandra into the family.  My son having finally gotten one of his favourite gaming characters names past his wife.

 

Wait, Cassandra.

 

The woman in front of me grabs my left arm, yanking it up she snarls, “Explain this.”  And with perfect timing the green light in my left palm flares up, as pain flares down my arm.

 

And I remember her.  I remember this.  I remember my son, Dan, being obsessed with a game.  I remember his sudden interest in morality, good vs evil.  Discussions that dragged the whole family into them.  Of my spending time with him, watching him play various games, trying to reconnect to my teenage son.  Of seeing the world of Thedas grow, change, hidden secrets ripping apart hard won knowledge, twisting it.  No black or white here, just various shades of grey.

 

“I…” I have no idea what to say to her.  How do you tell Cassandra parts of her life are lies?  The Seekers hid so much knowledge, twisted things to their own ends.  How do you tell this woman that she owes a Spirit her very abilities?  That her faith drew one to her at the moment of Tranquillity and restored her to herself? “I can’t.” I can’t do that right now, she isn’t ready, she’s already lost her friend, the Divine, and she isn’t ready to have more of her world ripped apart.

 

“What do you mean you can’t?” Cassandra stops her circling of me and starts yelling at me, again. I have to remind myself that she’s currently grief stricken, and I have to make allowances for her. Only I’m grief stricken too. My family are gone.

 

Except they’re not gone. I’m the one that’s gone. I remember, “My life for theirs.” A deal being struck. My world, my whole universe lives, and the cost is me.  Quite literally my life for theirs.

 

Lost in my own head I barely register Cassandra lunging at me, and Leliana pulling her off.  “We need her Cassandra.”  Yes they do, they need me, because I have the stupid Mark on my hand. I’m the one with Fen’Harel’s Anchor. I can close the rifts for them; stop them spreading, seal the Fade away, back behind the Veil.

 

“Do you remember what happened? How this began?” And now Leliana’s kneeling in front of me.  Her softer accent curls the words; it should make her less scary than Cassandra. It really doesn’t. Not if you know her.

 

I honestly do try and remember what happened. I would have had to have been at the Conclave. I would have interrupted the attempted murder of the Divine. To have been close to the Orb to get the Anchor. Only there’s a gap, a really big gap. “No. I don’t remember it.”  And I should remember it.  “I can sort of remember running, things were chasing me, and a woman.”  A glowing woman in the darkness of what I know is the Fade. But my memory is hazy. Indistinct.

 

“A woman?” Leliana echoes me, trying to prompt me, or trying to understand the nonsense I’m spouting at her.

 

“She reached out to me,” She was higher up, I was stretching for her hand. “And then…” Another big huge gap in my memories.  “I can’t remember. Why can’t I remember?”

 

Cassandra steps up to Leliana, “Go to the forward camp, Leliana. I will take her to the rift.”  And I’m sure this is how the game plays out. I’m sure I can follow this path easily, all the way to the final reveal of Solas being Fen’Harel, of losing my arm, of him still taking the last step and ripping the veil down.  Once it comes down the trapped Elvhen, so called, gods, the first Darkspawn I’ll trap in the Fade, and the poor spirits that live there, will spill out in a wave of utter destruction.  No one gets to walk away from it.  To the point that the event even bends and rips its way to other universes, pours out into them, destroys them too. Universes like my own.

 

Giving a single nod, Leliana turns to leave. And I’m too old to put up with this bullshit.  How many stories have I read, or watched, where no one talks to each other?  How many times have I seen people hide things, only to have them blow up in their faces later on?  And I know some of this story playing out with me centre stage. There are so many secrets. And I can’t be bothered to try and remember the lies I’ll have to tell to keep to the path. Besides I can’t wait to troll Solas.

 

“Wait!” I call out to Leliana.  “I have a question for you.” It’s enough to make Leliana pause and turn to me.  I’m careful to look at Cassandra, “You used the word rift. You said everyone at this Conclave thing was dead. And you want to know what this light thing on my hand is.” I don’t wait for her nod. “I have a question for you first. And I really hope I’m wrong.” I’m not, I know I’m right, but I hope it fixed itself so I don’t have to. “Is there a giant rip in the Veil?  A rip that’s growing. It’s probably in the sky. It leads to the Fade. It may even be spitting spirits and other rifts out.”

 

Of course Cassandra predictably gets angry.  Fisting a hand in my tunic, she drags me unsteadily to my feet. “So you are responsible...”

 

Getting my balance back I roll my eyes at her. And it’s interesting to note I’m about her height. I guess I’m human then. I know she’s struggling with the death of her friend, of wanting to punish the person responsible, but I refuse to be her scapegoat.  “No. I didn’t. But I can guess what happened.  Someone has deliberately stolen my memories of the event.  This suggests I’ll be able to tell you who really did blow up your Conclave. Instead, I’m stuck in a dungeon with you.”

 

A purple gloved hand appears on Cassandra’s arm, the one she’s holding me up with.  Leliana’s face comes into view. “Tell us what you know.”  It’s not a request.

 

I turn my attention to her. I have no idea if she’ll believe me or not, but I refuse to leave them floundering completely in the dark. There are things they’re not ready for, but they should be able to deal with this reveal.  “What I know, is there is only one item capable of doing what I think has happened.  The Orb of Fen’Harel.  He used it to imprison the other so called gods in the Fade. It could possibly be used, by a suicidal idiot, to open a physical door into the Fade, allowing someone to walk in the Fade in person.”

 

Both Cassandra and Leliana exchange a weighted look. I doubt they truly understand what the Orb could do. “Or,” I carry on. “If you were an insane megalomaniac, you could use it tear the Veil down, destroying the whole world in the process.”

 

As I have their undivided attention I decide to really stir things, “If we’re really lucky, we’ll be able to fix the tear in the Veil, quickly, because, if we don’t,” I pause to try and make it sound ominous, “Fen’Harel himself might wake up, and no one wants that bumbling idiot meddling in Thedas.  He’ll make the Veil coming down look like a nice walk through a park.” I really hope they have parks here in Thedas, or else I’ve just lost them.

 

It seems I haven’t when Cassandra gets a thoughtful look on her face, “And how do you know this?”

 

“Everyone knows this,” If they played the game. “Also because I’m suddenly in Thedas,” I tell her as honestly as I can.  “And Thedas lies in the southern hemisphere.” I really hope Thedas is the continent and not the planet. “I’m from the northern hemisphere. From Britannia.”  Not technically a lie. I’m just omitting that I’m from a different planet, and my country is in the northern hemisphere of Earth. “Some of my memories may have been taken from me, but there isn’t a big enough time gap to account for how long it would take anyone to travel from Britannia to Thedas. And while I don’t remember what happened, I do remember running, and all around me is green. Leading me to the possible conclusion I was in the Fade, however briefly, meaning I travelled through a rift.  Nothing else I’m aware of can do that.  Nothing, except the Orb of Fen’Harel. And I can only pray they didn’t wake him up when they stole it from him.”  Okay that’s a lie.  Solas arranged for his Orb to end up where it did. But I’m not above twisting some truths to get the result I need.

 

I’m such a hypocrite. Solas gave away his Orb.  It was used to destroy the Conclave.  And then it was going to be used to get a would be godling to the Fade so he could reign with an iron fist over a dead and dying world. A world that would swarm with Darkspawn. Solas then lived a lie with the Inquisition, until he could get his broken Orb back, to then follow down the same path of total destruction.  And here I am, twisting the truth, and telling them lies to get my way.

 

“And,” I hold up my left hand. “There’s this. I really hope this is a key. An Anchor if you will, that will allow me to close rifts.”  It obligingly flashes green, the light crawling along my hand and fingers, making my skin crawl at the same time. I sincerely hope Solas was able to stabilize the Anchor enough so it can’t be taken from me, we don’t need Solas, or an ex-human with a god complex with this kind of power. I’m not the best person to give this kind of power to, they’re so much worse than me.

 

“Everyone knows?” Leliana is mimicking me. I’m guessing as interrogation techniques go it’s tame considering she’s not pulling my fingernails out.

 

“Yes, everyone knows,” I repeat it.  Cassandra’s hand in my tunic relaxes.  “Its basic history,” I do my best to pass it off as normal.  And I suppose it is normal, if you’re into Dragon Age. 

 

They share another significant look. I barely catch the slight nod Leliana gives Cassandra. My tunic is released from the death hold on it, and Cassandra says, “Come then. I will take you to a smaller rift.  We will test your claims and see if you can seal a rift.” She leaves unspoken the threat of what will happen to me if I fail.  Only my death at her hands would be so very merciful compared to the death I suffered as my world died.

 

“Lead the way,” I motion with my shackled hands.

 

In seconds my wrists are out of the shackles, instead they’re bound with rope.  I watch bemused as Cassandra does this.  It’s clear she thinks I’ll run. She doesn’t realise yet how serious I am about stopping the Breach.  Glancing around I notice the men with swords are still watching us, but Leliana has already vanished. I didn’t even see her leave. I guess that rogue stealth comes in handy for her line of work.

 

I end up walking out of the dungeon a step behind Cassandra.  Then up into the Chantry building.  Before us the big double doors leading outside.  Squaring my shoulders I fall into step beside her.  Best to get her ready for us walking together as a team.

 

A soldier opens the smaller door embedded in the bigger ones, letting me catch a glimpse of sun reflecting dazzlingly off of snow. Haven.  Haven is beyond those doors. I step through bracing myself for everything that’s going to happen next.


	2. Inherited Skillz

Whenever I’ve thought about Haven, somewhere in there, is the thought that Haven is going to be colder than Hoth on a freezing day.  While Dan was into gaming, my other son Mike was into films, so Star Wars was a series that was well watched in our household.  To the point I’d had many a conversation with him, preteen years, using film quotes. He laughed at me, a lot, so I can only guess I failed at being a cool mum.

 

I may have been wrong on some of the Star Wars things, but I was right about Haven, it is freezing cold. Thankfully the standard green armour a Herald starts in is fairly warm. My breath steams in the air. And I’m forced to squint as my eyes adjust to the glaring white snow.  So I miss Cassandra’s little speech. I don’t miss the burst of pain from the Anchor though.

 

I’m so caught up in not screaming, I’ve been through child birth four times, and this is so much fucking worse, I miss the next part of Cassandra’s dialogue.  She is nice enough to kneel down beside me, and I find myself curling into her, though I’m a little surprised she doesn’t just push me away.

 

Panting through the aftershocks I glance up at the sky, and the game does not do justice to the Breach. For a start it really does look like the end of the world. It’s not just green. It glows. I bet it lights up the sky at night like the most demented of night lights.  I watch transfixed as meteors are spat out of it. They soar out across the sky, some crashing down to earth near the Breach, others vanishing far out beyond the horizon.  It’s sending out spirits, twisted into demons, and in places there will be more rifts opening.

 

Shuddering against Cassandra, I swallow my fear, its one thing to know I’ve been picked to do this, it’s quite another to know everything I know. “Okay,” I ignore the fact my voice is a bit quivery. “Let’s do this. The sooner we get to a rift, the sooner we’ll know if I can help stop this madness.”

 

This close to her, it’s easy to see Cassandra’s eyes soften, before they harden again.  I’m dragged to my feet, she’s so much stronger than she looks, but then again, she trains in metal armour, and swings a sword for a living.

 

With the rope still around my wrists I’m tugged towards Haven.  From this angle I can see some of the layout is the same.  Of course Haven is bigger than the game portrays.  Not really a surprise there.  It would have to be. It’s the main pilgrimage site for the Temple of Sacred Ashes, and numerous businesses would be needed to supply the pilgrims and Chantry with what they need.  In turn there would need to be workers and their homes. What I’m not expecting are the sheer number of threadbare tents.

 

In front of the Chantry is an open area, covered in pristine snow, there aren’t even foot marks in it.  Once you move away from that, like we are, any area that isn’t a road, either has a house, or a mass of tents, on it.

 

During the game, the hapless Herald to be, is lead through Haven by Cassandra.  She gives some background and information about the people wanting said Herald dead.  And you get a nice cinematic of a few people glaring.  In reality, there are so many more people, and they aren’t just glaring. If Cassandra wasn’t here I’m sure I’d be swarmed and lynch mobbed right about now.  The mob keeps their distance and I’m stunned when I hear the wail of a baby.  In the game I don’t really remember seeing many children, only adults.  Here there are tiny faces peeking out from behind the legs of adults, unnervingly they’re just as hate filled and accusing.

 

Suddenly my eye is drawn upwards, a few horned heads catching my attention.  Qunari. Though technically if they’re here they’re Vashoth.  I’m used to a world of humans.  My mind boggles at the sheer size of one of these people. No wonder The Iron Bull could do some of the moves he did; the utter mass of him propelling him forward would make him nearly unstoppable.

 

Spotting the Vashoth has me paying more attention to the crowd.  Predominantly it’s made up of humans.  Scattered through it in small oases are groups of elves, slightly shorter, and much gaunter than the humans. The dwarves, for all they’re even shorter, stand out once you know to look for them. It begs the question of Vashoth, dwarves, and convergent evolution. I know humans and elves can breed, and their offspring are fertile, meaning we are the same species, though possibly different sub species.

 

And now I’m picturing Solas’ face as he discovers that little fact. Or the various racists that seem to think elves are less than human.  I would love to be able to educate them on a few simple truths, their whole world view would fall apart, and I’d love to laugh in their faces.  If I’m right, and they’d have a meltdown of epic proportions from that little fact, I wonder just how badly they’d handle knowing monkeys are their closest genetic cousins?

 

Gawking like a tourist and feeling like one too, we make it to the gates of Haven. Finally. All those glares were hard to take. I know I’m innocent, I didn’t murder the Divine, but this society hasn’t heard of innocent until proven guilty. 

 

Walking up the slope to the big gates that lead up the mountain, I’m startled to see the blacksmith’s really is outside of the walls, along with a very makeshift area holding a few mangy looking horses. I’ve always wondered why they’d not be inside the walls; there must be a reason for it.

 

Reaching the big gates, Cassandra does her spiel about making sure I get a trial, which is more decent of her than the other so called Seekers of Truth.  There are few people in any world with the strength to call bullshit on some of the stuff she has.  I do admire her for that. I do also still want to smack her up the head for other things, for example, her treatment of Varric.

 

Walking next to her I steel myself for the piles of bodies we’re going to find. I may have already lived through this on my world, but it doesn’t make it any easier to deal with.

 

It’s the smell that hits me first.  Nothing like burning human flesh to really put you off meat.  Corpses are scattered about like discarded, broken dolls.  White snow is churned up and mixed with dirt, and splashes of drying blood.  And this is nothing compared to what I know happened at the Temple itself.

 

I’ve often wondered what Solas thinks of all of this.  From the gameplay he really doesn’t think much of anyone born after he put the Veil up.  Believing them to be mere empty shells of what they could have been.  Did he ever feel guilt for all these people that he helped to kill?  I know he wasn’t the one who raised the Orb and caused this, but he still made sure his Orb made it to Corypheus, who then caused all of this.  When that particular twist came out, I have to admit, I thought Solas was a murderer.  Now I’m convinced he should face Manslaughter charges. He genuinely didn’t know what Corypheus would do with it, or that Corypheus could jump from body to body, thereby surviving the explosion.

 

The Anchor chooses this moment to do its own version of an explosion.  No wonder the Heralds always collapse.  It really fucking hurts.  Again Cassandra settles near me, letting me use her to rest against. In the game there should be more dialogue, instead, we sit in silence, and watch the Breach hurl more meteors.

 

Staggering to my feet, I glare at the Breach, all I have to do is survive getting up there.  Once the rift under it is closed, the blasted thing will stabilise, and I’ll stop feeling so much pain.  “Right.  Let’s carry on.  I will climb that bloody mountain, even if it kills me,” I really hope it doesn’t.

 

“This way,” Cassandra strides off and I scurry after her.  In the game, whichever character you had control of would lead. I’m going to let her show me where to go. My map reading skills are rusty after Sat Navs telling me where to go.

 

When we reach the bridge, I grab her arm to slow her down, as I mutter, “I hate this bit.”

 

Straight in front of us, one of those meteors crashes down, taking the bridge, and us, with it.  If Cassandra had carried on as before, she’d be crispy fried right about now, and I’m not sure I can manage saving Thedas without her. Instead we tumble down to the ice below.

 

Luckily I’m not the first hapless otherworlder to be sent here.  An unknown number of others have walked this path in front of me.  Each one of them has brought something with them, or learnt extra things while being the Herald. Which is handy, as I know how to roll with the fall, so I don’t break my neck. In fact, I manage to roll so well, I use the momentum to get to my feet smoothly.

 

I have an amazing view of yet another green, glowing, meteor crashing into the ice near us.  Rising from the glow, a twisted mockery of a spirit manifests itself. A Shade.  Revolted by its appearance, I have to remind myself this poor person is here against their will, scooped up by the Breach, and thrust into this part of the world.

 

True to form, Cassandra draws her sword, charging the demon she yells, “Stay behind me.”  Even now she’s protecting me.  Her strength of character, once again, shining through.  How many of us could say we’d do the same in her position?

 

Unfortunately for both of us, another Shade demon was lurking under the ice.  It manifests and stands between us.  Not that I’m expecting a lot from Cassandra, she is a little on the busy side with her own opponent.  Leaving me to look over at the crates, to see what weapon I’ll be wielding in my first battle in Thedas.

 

A simple staff leans against the open crate. I guess I’ll be a mage.  Not that I know anything about magic.  My universe was based on science.  Let’s hope it’s not too hard to learn.  Lunging for the staff, I lift it in triumph, and turn to despatch my foe.

 

Only, I have no idea how to use the stupid thing.  And I should know.  One of the other Heralds should have used magic, I should have a vague inkling of how to attack the blasted demon. Mentally grasping at straws, I pull at an invisible thread, and suddenly I’m surrounded by blue.  And not a moment too soon.  Demon claws scrape down it, avoiding me completely.

 

A barrier.  I made a barrier.  It seems I can cast Spirit magic.

 

Undeterred by its attack being foiled, the demon continues to claw at my barrier. A barrier that it growing holey. It can’t last much longer. I have to get away from the demon.  Shifting to run, I don’t know why I’m startled when it moves to block me.  It’s a demon. It can read my mind.

 

Sparkling blue fades from around me, I’m vulnerable to its claws now.  It lifts its arms up.  As unexperienced at battle as I am, even I know what’s going to happen next, it’s going to try to claw me to death.

 

Desperately I mentally grab around me.  Instinct has me yanking.  The world blurs briefly, and I skid on the ice, just a foot away from Cassandra.  Wow.  I just used Fade Step.  Technically I just teleported.

 

A sort of ping goes off in my head, without thinking I pull at the thread again, and once more Cassandra and I are protected by a barrier.  Making it look easy, Cassandra swings her sword, the demon in front of her screams, dissipating into thin air.  Pivoting on her heel, she slams her sword at the demon chasing me.  One more inhuman scream later and we’re safe again.

 

“Drop your weapon. Now.” Cassandra still has her sword raised, and she’s poised to attack.  Oh.  She wants me to drop the staff.

 

I have no idea how to use the stupid thing, yet. And I’ll need something to protect myself with as we climb the mountain.  Though I’m sure I have a chance to gain some approval from her.  I literally drop it.  Letting it fall from my hand to clatter on the ground. “Okay.”

 

Her sigh is heavy. “I cannot protect you, and I cannot expect you to be defenceless.  Your barrier was timely and well appreciated.” She stops waving the sword in my face, and sheathes it. “I should remember you agreed to come willingly.”

 

More than willingly, but I’m not going to rub her nose in it.

 

Shoving a belt at me, she says, “Take these potions. Maker knows what we will face.”  On the belt are little pouches.  Slinging it around my hips, I do the buckle up, and I have my own utility belt. I feel very Batman right now.  It sits comfortably and shouldn’t get in my way as I move.

 

“I’m ready to carry on Cassandra,” I tell her and hope she’ll continue to lead the way.  She takes the hint and we walk up an iced over river.  Green glitters in the depths under my feet.  I hurry to stay with her.

 

As we crest the hill, we look down, to see more Shade demons scudding about.  With a loud battle cry, Cassandra smoothly draws her sword, and flings herself at them.  Blinking in shock at how fast she can move, I remember at the last second to cast the barrier spell for her.  She’s soon sheathed in blue, her attacks damaging the demons, while theirs are unable to even scratch her.

 

In moments both demons are dead and our path is clear.  I jog over to her and she’s not even winded.  Seriously her stamina and fitness are amazing.  It sets the tone for the rest of our journey. I give her a barrier, she acts like a tank and hits things, while I occasionally Fade Step away from enemies. Until we reach the base of stairs I remember from the game.

 

As we ascend she yells, “We’re getting close to the rift. You can hear the fighting.”  And she’s right.  Reaching the top, the sound of battle carries to us.  We must be close to Varric and Solas.

 

Time to step up as Herald and close my first rift.


	3. Paragons, Wolves, and Steps

Rounding a chunk of broken, and charred, masonry, we spot the melee. As before, Cassandra charges straight in, I go to give her a barrier, and it automatically spreads to everyone else. Well everyone except the demons.  It gives the fighters a better chance though, and they rally quickly.

 

Knowing what I know, I look for the tell tale green glow, and locate the rift.  The demons should be linked to it. If I can disrupt it enough, they’ll be momentarily stunned, giving Cassandra and company, an even greater chance of getting through this fight.

 

Grabbing and pulling, I Fade Step through the battle, to just under the rift. I’ve never done this before, countless Heralds before me have, and I hope it’s something else that is passed on to me.  Lifting my left hand I don’t have to do a thing, the Anchor latches onto the rift, and I know I could rip it open further, it would be so easy.  I go to close it, and it’s like someone has a foot in the door, blocking me.  Instead, I sort of punch it.  The effect is instantaneous, demons shrinking back, helpless and stunned, as the fighters move in to slaughter them.

 

Keeping a light connection to the rift, I’m ready when the last of the demon essence is drawn back, allowing me to slam the door closed behind them.  And with a fairly loud bang noise, I seal my first rift. Where a strange greenish, ever changing, crystalline shape was hanging in the air, there is nothing. I did it. I may yet be able to carry the mantle of Herald without making too many mistakes.

 

Without the constant hum of the rift, the silence is deafening, the whistle of the cold air doesn’t fill it.  As no one else seems interested in talking, I turn to Cassandra, “Well that worked.”

 

Solas and Cassandra move closer.  Of course it’s Solas that speaks, “It seems I was correct. What ever magic opened the Breach in the sky also placed that Mark upon your hand.” His smooth voice is soothing, and sexy. I will admit to having a bit of a crush on him during Dan’s play throughs. Until the Trespasser DLC was released. Then I was just angry at him, he has such good intentions, but the road to hell is paved with good intentions, he doesn’t seem to understand the consequences of his actions. “I theorized the Mark might be able to close the rifts that have opened in the Breach’s wake. And it I’m glad to see it did.”  He’s doing his ‘I’m just a humble apostate, whilst also being an arrogant, yet smart, bastard’ act.

 

His little speech gets Cassandra’s attention, “Meaning it could also close the Breach itself.”  Only she’s not looking at Solas, she’s watching me thoughtfully.  “It seems you were also correct prisoner.”

 

“Possibly,” Solas hedges, even as he hunches his shoulders and does his best submissive pose.  “It seems you hold the key to our salvation,” he tells me almost gently.  He’s a very good actor.  This is Oscar worthy stuff right here.

 

“Good to know,” A gruff new voices says from behind me. “Here I thought we’d be ass deep in demons forever.”  I spin on my heel, in time to see Varric tug on his gloves and stroll towards us.  “Varric Tethras,” he introduces himself.  “Rogue. Storyteller. And occasional unwanted tag along.” His cocky wink to Cassandra has the desired effect, her disgusted noise is impressive.

 

Dipping him a little bow, I introduce myself, “Petal. And I cannot see how you could ever be an unwanted tag along Varric Tethras. That’s a nice crossbow you have there.”  And Bianca is sitting on his back, bigger, and more lethal looking than the game.

 

“Ah,” He breathes. “Isn’t she. Bianca and I have been through a lot together,” his eyes softening in fondness at her.  “And she’ll be great company in the valley,” He volunteers to come with us without being asked.

 

Striding forward, Cassandra turns him down flat, “Absolutely not. Your help is appreciated Varric, but.”

 

Cutting her off he points out, “Have you been in the valley lately Seeker? Your soldiers aren’t in control anymore.” Meaning there are too many demons now.  “You need me,” has me blinking in surprise at the sheer innuendo in his voice.  No wonder there are people out there shipping these two together.  Possibly the way he holds her gaze is another thing to excite the shippers.

 

Yet another disgusted noise slips from her as she storms away.  He’s right, and she knows it, doesn’t mean she has to like it.

 

Sidling up to me, Solas says, “My name is Solas. If there are to be introductions.”  His voice holding so many inflections in just one simple dialogue line.

 

I refuse to thank him for my life, so I rudely interrupt, “Are you?”

 

“I beg your pardon?” His eyes narrow at me as if he’s suspicious of me.

 

I really shouldn’t do this. But this is the perfect opportunity. Plastering on an innocent expression, I give him the same small bow I gave Varric. “Emma ihr abelas, Solas. My apologies. I should not have assumed you would know anything of the Elvhen language.  I merely meant to ask you, if you were indeed Pride, as this is what your name means in Elvhen.”

 

Lecturing Solas on his own language gives me the privilege of seeing his face twist up, as if he’d taken a big bite of something bitter.  “I see,” and he’s very unhappy right now.  Only the experience of being a mother with four children, has given me the super power of not laughing in his face, and appearing to be serene.  Nothing like a swarm of hellions to teach you to hold your laughter in, so you don’t encourage them to do it again. “My apologies also. I appear to have misunderstood your question as well.  I am unused to any elf, outside of the Dalish Clans, having even a passing knowledge of Elvhen.  And as I did not see the Vallaslin on your face, I wrongly, assumed you were not Dalish.”

 

“I’m not,” It’s my turn to give him a strange look.  Humans aren’t allowed to be Dalish, it’s an elf only society.  I can’t believe the Dread Wolf managed to turn my trolling around so quickly.  No wonder he got away with hiding in the middle of the Inquisition.  So, if I can’t get him on his language, I’ll get him with knowledge instead.  “I have no interest in willingly applying slave markings to my face.  To have my very will, and thoughts, chained to another. Especially as the so called Elvhen gods, are so cruel, so power-hungry, it helped drive Fen’Harel into crafting his Orb, and locking them away in the Fade.”

 

His recoil is so slight, I’d think I was imagining it, only I’m not, because I know who he really is. I would press my advantage, but Cassandra chooses this moment to re-enter the conversation, “The same Orb you claim created the Breach?”

 

Forced to turn away from Solas, I find her glaring at me, again. “Yes,” I tell her.  “The very same Orb. Fen’Harel may have used it to imprison his kin, and save his people from them, but someone else is clearly using it to try and enter the Fade, and in the process they’re tearing holes in the Veil.”

 

“So you are saying an elf did this?” Solas’ silky voice asks, and when I glance at him, I can see a vein throb in his head.  I’ve finally gotten under his skin.  In entirely the wrong way.  A small vindictive part of me rears its head.  He undid the Veil. His actions lead to the deaths of entire universes. His actions lead to the deaths of my family, my children, my grandchildren.  Hurting him isn’t why I’m here, trolling him might be allowed, but I need him, the Inquisition needs him.

 

And I have no idea how to let go of the anger I have towards him and his misguided actions.

 

“Is that a serious question?” I find a certain amount of satisfaction in laughing in his face.  “No elf raised in a city would be allowed to have such power, they’re herded into Alienages and treated as slaves. Or in other lands they are actual slaves.  Perhaps Dalish elves might be able to piece together the fractured puzzle of the Elvhen, after all they still mark themselves as slaves to their so called gods. But if one of them raised the Orb, to free their imprisoned gods, the world would already be destroyed.” I don’t both to hide my shiver at that thought. Solas was so certain he could fight those he once called friends, but the Fade reflects back what you bring with you; they’ve already changed beyond all recognition. With the disruption of the Veil they’ll start to embrace the corruption of the Blight, twisting a portion of it to their will.  If released they’ll overpower, and destroy Corypheus, usurp his power, and bend the Darkspawn to their own purpose.  They won’t just enslave this world; they’ll enslave every world they can find, in this universe, and beyond.

 

Sighing, and shaking my head, to shake the memories away, I straighten up and face Cassandra again, “Whoever did this, did not intend to release the ancient Elvhen Slavers.  They’ve done it to gain access to the Fade.  To physically walk in there.” My hand flares for a heartbeat so I hold it up to her.  “And to do that, they need the Anchor, the one embedded in my hand.  With this they can open a rift properly. It will be stable enough to allow them to step into the Fade, and not be ripped apart into tiny, little, flakes of flesh.” Which is what drove Corypheus to such lengths in the game. After all, if he wants to get into the Fade, why not simply step through any one of the rifts spawning across Thedas?  Because it would destroy him.  He needs the Anchor to do it safely.

 

Nodding Cassandra says, “Understood. We should get to the forward camp quickly.”  Both she and Solas stride off together.  They easily fall into step.  And the submissive act he’s been faking falls away from him.

 

“Well,” A deeper voice drawls out from my left. “Bianca’s excited!”  And Varric’s comment is so very Varric that my mouth twitches upwards on its own.

 

Falling into step beside him, I watch as he easily vaults the fence in the way. To my surprise I follow him just as easily.  My feet land solidly, and my knees don’t instantly protest. In fact, considering I’ve just walked for miles, in the freezing cold, with Cassandra, punctuated with moments of sheer terror called melee, I’m not exhausted, or achy.  When was the last time my shoulder, or lower back, didn’t ache?  This cold should be crippling me.  Glancing at my left hand I notice the smoothness of skin, the way it appears to be more youthful.  When I was sent here, they’ve obviously taken steps to make sure I’ll be able to keep up with the physical demands of the job.

 

Meandering down the path with Varric, we soon reach another frozen lake, and in the distance I can see things scudding around.  “Demons ahead!” Solas calls out. Unnecessarily I feel, but its better someone notices them, than no one.

 

“Glad you brought me now Seeker?” Varric taunts Cassandra, and I throw a barrier up around us.  With three of them working together, as if they’ve been a team for years, the demons fall quickly.

 

So do the next two groups of demons and we make much better time.  Time that Solas uses to fall back beside me.  “You know a great deal about Elvhen history.  I have never spoken to a Dalish, or city elf, who has even come close.”  Solas doesn’t lie, outright, but he will twist things, give words meaning you never knew they could have.  And right now he’s fishing.

 

“No?” I keep walking.  “That’s a pity.  People should know their history.  History tends to repeat itself, and if you don’t understand your history, you are doomed to repeat it.”

 

“Wise words,” He nods sagely. I wait for him to continue. He doesn’t disappoint, “Though ones I’ve not heard before.”

 

And I have a new way to troll him.  “Really? Hmm, strange.  I thought everyone knew it, or a variation of it anyway.” Oh the joy of dangling things from my world in front of him.  The curiosity alone is going to drive him up the wall. I’m also terribly aware that this is not a healthy coping method for me; I’m going to have to deal with my rage for him.

 

“More demons,” Cassandra interrupts before he can reply, and we fall into, what is rapidly becoming, our tried and tested battle pattern.

 

Emerging victorious, we move on, towards the base of yet more steps. I know this is a damn mountain, but does it have to have so many sodding steps? I miss escalators. Thankfully my knees are still okay.  No aches.

 

“So,” Varric drawls the word.  He’s remarkably good at doing that. “Are you innocent?”  Straight to the point.

 

I hate the Herald’s answer.  And I know I’m innocent.  “Yes.  I’m innocent. I did not murder the Divine. I did not use Fen’Harel’s Orb to tear holes in the Veil. I do know I stole the Anchor from the one who is guilty.  But my memories have been taken from me, so I can’t tell you who did murder all those people.”

 

“Huh,” He keeps pace with me as we climb upwards.  “I would have spun a better story.”

 

“It’s not a story,” I glance over at him.  “Believe me Varric, I’m a terrible liar, besides it’s easier to tell the truth.”  A glowing glob of green whizzes past him, and we’re forced to fight again.

 

At the end we stop so that Cassandra can drink a potion.  A demon caught her slightly, nothing bad, but there was blood.  She leans against a handy outcropping of stone. “I hope Leliana made it through all this,” the worry bleeding through into her voice.

 

“She’s resourceful, Seeker,” Varric reassures her.  And he’s right. Leliana is very resourceful. Scarily so.

 

Solas adds, “We will see for ourselves at the forward camp. We are almost there.” Oh, so it’s just up the path? Good. I was getting sick of all the fighting. And the steps.

 

Both men start up the steps that blend into a dirt track slope, leaving Cassandra behind.  She’s still looking worried, so I pat her armoured shoulder, “Trust me Cassandra. She’s already waiting for you at the forward camp. It will take more than a few demons to stop the Rose of Ferelden.”  Her head whips around to stare at me, so much suspicion etched into it.

 

“We will see prisoner,” She stalks off after the boys, and I scurry to keep up.

 

After closing the rift in front of the camp’s gates, we’ll allowed inside. Finally. We’ve made it to the forward camp.  It’s filled with the wounded, the frightened, and the lost.  Above the whisper of the wind, Roderick’s voice carries across the entire camp.  He’s loud.  And this will be my first encounter with him. I’m not looking forward to it. I’m aware he’s grieving, and grief does some of the strangest things to us.  He’s also afraid, there’s a giant hole in the sky, there are demons falling out of it. And he’s angry because his Divine, a woman he called friend, and someone he looked up to, is dead, murdered.  And I’m such a convenient target.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies I got slightly distracted by everything other than what I was supposed to be doing. I hope you enjoy.


	4. Why Do We Fall?

Roderick Asignon, High Chancellor of the Chantry, and in Cassandra’s angry words, a bureaucrat, is more impressive in the flesh.  “Wow,” I stare at him in wonder, as he continues harping on at Cassandra and Leliana. “He is a very awe-inspiring man.”

 

A snort from Varric has me on the receiving end of a dwarven look of disbelief.  I wave my glowing hand at Roderick, “He really is Varric.  He’s currently berating the grieving, and enraged, Left and Right Hands of a murdered Divine, and he’s still breathing.  If that isn’t impressive, I don’t know what is.”

 

Several coughing fits break out around us, as people cover up their chuckles, even Solas.  Varric nods sagely, “I see your point.  The Seeker’s dangerous on a good day, on one like this; even high dragons would do well to flee from her.”  He pauses for a few seconds, “So, bets on how she kills him?”

 

Even knowing as much as I do about him, his suggestion startles me, until I see the twinkle in his eyes, so I play along.  “Well I’m not sure.  She could do her classic move, and stab him with her oversized cutlery.” Coughing fits start up again. “Or she could bash him to death with her shield, or just pitch him over the side of the mountain. It’s so hard to pick one.”

 

“True,” Varric crosses his arms and stands in a classic ‘thinking’ pose.  “Though my money is on the Seeker stabbing him with her sword, it’s a tried and tested method for her.”  Oh yeah, Cassandra stabbed him in the book when she met him.

 

“Perhaps,” Solas joins in. “Though I suspect the Nightingale will be the one to remove him, permanently.”  And he has a point. Leliana’s hand is hidden under her cloak, where I’m sure more than one weapon is secreted.

 

“Hmm,” I fake contemplate it. “So, if Varric’s picking Cassandra stabbing Roderick, and Solas is going for death by Leliana, I think I’ll pick,” I pause for a moment. “Death by suffocation.”  I gesture at Roderick, “I mean look at him, I don’t think he’s stopped to take a breath yet.  How is he doing that?  It’s non stop ranting at the moment.”

 

Of course that’s the moment Roderick breaks out of said rant, and turns to us, “Mock all you want Prisoner.” He literally spits the words. I’m glad I’m not standing closer to him.

 

“Petal,” I interrupt him.  “My name is Petal.”  Might as well get a few people to call me by my name, before I become just ‘Herald’, or ‘Inquisitor’.  In real life Roderick is capable of sneering, and glaring hatefully, at the same time.  “Do be careful Rodri, if the wind changes your face might get stuck like that,” slips out without thinking.  You have to nip that behaviour in the bud when it comes to children.

 

Possibly the fresh round of almost coughing provokes him to puff himself up like an angry cat, “And my name is High Chancellor Roderick. You can keep your name of Petal,” He sneers my name. “But your title of Prisoner stands.”

 

“Really? I have two titles already Rodri, and neither of them is Prisoner.” I really should stop baiting him.  We have a mountain path to climb, with more bloody steps, scouts to save, an immense Pride demon to fight, and on top of that, I still have to stabilize the Breach.

 

If anything, his already impressive sneer, twists up further, “And what would those be?  Murderer? And Breach Maker?”

 

Okay, enough is enough.  “No,” I give my best fake sweet expression.  “Though thank you for the reminder. I have an appointment with the Breach to keep. And then I have a world to save.”  His doubting has done its job, and given me an idea. Turning to Leliana I ask, “Leliana?  If we take the mountain path, and save the scouts.  Could you try and persuade a few mages, and Templars, to join you at the Temple?”

 

Cassandra’s suspicious, “Why?” Is the answer I get for my scheming.

 

I told the truth to Varric earlier, I really can’t lie, not unless I get a good run up at it, and lots of help.  God knows how I’m supposed to convince them I’m from their world.  That’s a problem for another day. Might as well be honest about my plans for the mages and Templars now, it’ll make it easier for them to trust me later on. “So the Templars can do their duty and suppress the rift. While the mages can start proving to Thedas, that they are responsible adults, including the nasty part of cleaning up other peoples’ messes that weren’t their fault.  Plus, closing rifts is very draining.  I’ve been fine with the smaller ones, but,” I look up at the giant gaping wound in the sky. “I’m going to need help with this one.”

 

Leliana and Cassandra exchange a look. You can tell they’ve worked together for a while, because they don’t need to talk, just a slight move of the head, and then, “Very well, Petal.” Leliana says, and her voice is smooth as silk right now. “I will ask them, I may even give them your reasoning.”  For some reason that sounded liked a threat.

 

Meanwhile Cassandra asks, “The mountain path?”  And I think she’s disapproving of my choice.

 

“There’s still hope some of the scouts can still be saved. We should at least try,” I do my best to explain.

 

Only Roderick interrupts, “Hope?  There is no hope, because this entire endeavour, and position, is hopeless.  We need to retreat while we still can.”

 

Oh for God’s sake.  Give me the strength not to pitch this idiot off the mountain myself. “Seriously Rodri?  Hope hasn’t fled, not yet.  Steel your heart.  The dawn is coming, even if I have to drag it kicking, and screaming, over the horizon.”  Spinning to Cassandra I grit out, “Can we please go? Some of us have actual work to do, instead of standing around, putting obstacles in other people’s paths.”

 

I will not swear at him. I will NOT swear at him. I won’t.  If we leave now.

 

One nod from her and we’re off.  I’m not looking forward to the mountain path, or the demons, or the ‘Boss’ battle at the end.  But, maybe, I can dodge the three days of unconsciousness, if the mages, and the Templars, show up to help.

 

**oOo**

 

Whoever made this body for me did an excellent job.  Cassandra and Varric both sink into the snow as we walk. I sort of skim over the top.  As does Solas. I hadn’t really noticed before, because we kept getting attacked by demons, this route has us skirting around them instead.

 

When it comes to the rickety ladders, I climb them far too easily.  I feel I should be making some sort of chittering noises, like a squirrel, as I scamper up them.  I ignore the others as they go through the in game dialogue, instead I’m content to gaze at the world I’m currently inhabiting.  This part of Thedas is beautiful.  But then I’ve always loved mountain landscapes, they have some spectacular sunsets, and sunrises.  The area of world I’m from, mountains are extremely rare.  If I survive this part of the narrative, I’ll have to get up early enough to see the sunrise at Haven.

 

Lingering near the opening of the mines, I wait for the others to catch up.  Together we clear the demons from the entrance and start through the mountain.  Sticking to our pattern of fighting soon has us through the other side, and all the way to where the scouts are pinned down by a rift.  The others clear away the demons, and I seal the rift.

 

Solas is right, I am becoming proficient at it.  Well, I suppose all the Heralds that came before me perfected closing rifts, I’m just coasting on their hard won skills.  When the scouts thank me for saving them I just shrug, “There was hope you still lived, we had to try.”  I also ignore the side eye looks I’m getting from Cassandra and go to wait by the path to the Temple of Sacred Ashes. I’m really not looking forward to this bit.

 

I’ve seen enough ‘scorched earth’ areas on Earth. I don’t need to see the shattered remains of the temple, and the bodies of the fallen. I certainly don’t need to go anywhere near the red lyrium. Wait a minute.  Something niggles at the back of my mind when I think of the red lyrium, and it’s gone again.  Well that’s annoying.

 

Passively following along behind my team, I let their voices wash over me. I’ve no need to listen, I know the dialogue well enough.  When Cassandra points out where I came out of a rift, I nod, as if I’m listening.  I do my best not to look.  It’s one thing to walk this way in a game, it’s another in the flesh.  The smell is horrific.  Ashes of the dead swirl around our feet as we pass.  And it is all too easy to imagine these people screaming as they died. Eerie glowing green rocks don’t improve the ambience.

 

Rounding a broken wall we come to the large pit, high above it is the Breach, and there’s the mini rift under that, hanging suspended in the air.  The one in front of me is strangely hypnotic, it twists and reshapes itself, over and over.  A hum hinting of music emanates from it.  Pity it’s the one that’s destabilizing the Breach.

 

“You’re here,” Leliana’s voice comes from behind us.  Oh good, she made it.  And with her are what I can only guess are five Templars, and five mages.  Result. “Thank the Maker.”  She jogs over to us.

 

Not even greeting her, Cassandra tells her, “Leliana, have your men take up positions around the temple.”  Yes, we’re going to need them when the demon turns up. I hope her archers know what they’re doing.

 

I watch as Leliana leaves with her people, after telling the Templars and mages to obey me.  Their offended faces would be more amusing if the situation wasn’t as fraught as this one is.  Luckily they don’t have to listen to me, because Cassandra steps in, and they all do as she tells them.  She turns to me, “This is your chance to end this. Are you ready?”

 

My eyes are drawn to the rift in front of us, “No. Not really. But that doesn’t matter.  This is why I’m here.  How do you want to do this?  I’m not sure I can reach up to the Breach by myself. Not with only five mages and Templars to help me.” Even though I don’t need to do that just yet.

 

“No,” Solas steps closer. “This rift was the first, and it is the key. Seal it, and perhaps we seal the Breach.”  As ideas go it is pretty flimsy. I know if I seal this rift the Breach will stabilize, and we’ll gain the time to gather up more mages, or Templars, to help me seal the Breach.

 

Cassandra doesn’t even question him, “Then let’s find a way down. And be careful.”  She heads off on the in game path.  I wander after her, with Solas, and Varric, falling in behind me.

 

“Now is the hour of our victory,” Corypheus’ voice is nothing like the game.  It’s like nails on a blackboard crossed with, I have no idea, the closest I have is when someone is singing and they can’t carry a tune.  His voice is so off, I want to stick my fingers in my ears, and drown him out.  I react instinctively, pulling that thread I throw a barrier around us, even as I swing around to glare at the rift. “Bring forth the sacrifice.”

 

I’m not the only one to react negatively to his voice.  “What are we hearing?” Cassandra asks.  Predictably she’s already pulled her sword, with her shield set for an attack.

 

“At a guess,” Solas is standing calmly, leaning on his staff.  “The person who created the Breach.”  Yes, I suppose he would know Corypheus’ voice. After all he did give the Darkspawn his Orb.

 

Shaking off my unease I take the lead. Luckily the path is close enough to the game one I keep us on track. Which means I swing past the red lyrium.  Varric, Cassandra, and Solas talk about it, while I stare at it.  It sticks jaggedly out of the rock, pushing, or reaching, out in the air.  Its glow is brighter than the green glowing rocks, a sickly, sticky light that makes my skin crawl.  When Varric says, “It’s evil.” I interrupt him.

 

“It’s Blighted,” Slips out before I can think why it’s bad to tell them.

 

“What?” Varric stares at me.  “How can it be Blighted?  I’ve seen people with the Blight. People. Living things. Not rocks.”  Ah yes, they don’t know the secret of where lyrium comes from yet.

 

Do I leave this alone?  Or do I spill the beans now? How much can I change without destroying my chances of completing my tasks here?  Solas eyes me thoughtfully, “Petal, Master Tethras is correct. The Blight can only infect living things.”  And that is a very neat sidestep.  He’s not actually told a lie, he’s merely backed up Varric, and failed to mention anything to do with the subject of Titans. Damn he’s a tricky, canny, and very intelligent, wolf.

 

Screw it. I’ve already blown my cover on this little trip up here.  “But Solas, lyrium is living.  It’s the blood of the Stone.” Kind of like the dwarves are children of the Stone.  “It can be Blighted.  And once corrupted so thoroughly it will seek to tempt others to ingest it, so it can gain a new host to grow inside.  Varric is right; it’s evil.”

 

Walking swiftly away I don’t look back.  I have no interest in answering their questions, and that something is niggling at me again. I know something else about the red lyrium, or is it the Blight itself?  Something helpful, but it slips away from me again.

 

“Living?” Solas is right on my heels.

 

“Keep the sacrifice still,” And of all people Corypheus comes to my rescue.  Though I’d prefer never to hear his voice again.

 

“Someone help me,” The dead Divine’s cry for help is full of fear.  She was far from perfect, but to die the way she did?  Surrounded by Grey Wardens, the very people who sacrifice their lives to stop the Blights ravaging the surface, turned into puppets for the very person who created the Blight.  And then there was the monster that Corypheus has twisted into. It must have been terrifying for her.

 

In the game you only hear Cassandra’s shock at hearing the Divine’s voice.  In real life, it’s Leliana, the scouts, and the mages and Templars I’d asked to come help me.  “That is Divine Justina’s voice!”

 

I don’t hang around and jump over the edge, down to the main area. Solas’ questions would be probing and driven by his intellect. Cassandra’s would be driven by her sword. They all follow me down, and I cross my arms, waiting for the rift, or Fade, to do the vision thingy.

 

I’m not disappointed.  My hand flares as the Anchor interacts with the rift.  “Someone help me!”  Justina calls out again.

 

“What’s going on here?”  And that’s my voice.  Urgh, I’ve never liked it.  Though there are few people who like their own voice.  We do tend to be programmed by society to want perfection.

 

Cassandra gazes around wide-eyed, “That was your voice. Most Holy called out to you, but…”

 

She’s stopped by the Fade granting us the vision I’ve been waiting here for.  A woman I know is the Divine is held in place by a shadowy figure. In bursts a figure, in the horrible green starter armour, and my mouth drops open in shock.  Holy Batarangs. I’m a fucking elf. And I’m taking back my nice thoughts about whoever made this body for me, because they made my hair red, stupidly red, unnaturally red, like they painted a giant Iron Bull’s Eye on me.

 

Why did they make me an elf?  I thought I was a human, because of my height, how can I be an elf and be tall?

 

Finishing with a flash of light, the vision has Cassandra all riled up, “You were there! Who attacked? And the Divine, is she…? Was this vision true? What are we seeing?”  I suppose I should feel lucky she hasn’t pulled her sword out yet, instead she gets in my face.

 

“Well,” I drawl out the word.  “At least we know why they took these memories from me.  I’d be able to answer you if I could remember.”

 

“It was an echo of what happened here,” Solas pulls her attention away from me. “The Fade bleeds into this place.” She stalks over to him, her questioning of me forgotten. “This rift is not sealed, but it is closed… Albeit temporarily. I believe that with the mark, the rift can be opened, and then sealed properly and safely. However,” Because of course there’s a ‘however’, “Opening the rift will likely attract attention from the other side.”

 

And again Cassandra simply accepts what he’s saying.  He’s very good at getting people to trust him.  She turns to everyone and raises her voice to a near shout, “That means demons. Stand ready.”

 

I guess the first boss fight is up next then. I watch as Cassandra bosses everyone around to gain as much of an advantage as she can.  Occasionally Solas interjects a suggestion or two.  Or Leliana mentions a different outcropping for an archer to perch on.  Varric stands next to me and murmurs, “Bets on Cassandra just stabbing any demon dumb enough to come through the rift to death?”

 

“Unfortunately it won’t be that easy Varric,” I shake my head.  This pride demon is huge in the game, and it’s tied to the rift, protected from all attacks unless the Herald, in this case me, disrupts the rift. “Make sure you have healing potions.”  It’s the only warning I can give him because I’m being motioned over to do my job.

 

Opening the rift is the easy part, watching the giant pride demon materialize goes swimmingly, then it laughs, and everything, in Varric’s favourite words, ‘goes to shit’.

 

I know Leliana’s one of the deadliest archers in Thedas.  We have five veteran Templars.  Five mages, who from their spells, are combat trained. All the scouts Leliana brought with her. Cassandra’s a trained right hand of the Divine and a Seeker.  Varric knows how to use his crossbow to devastating effect. And we have Solas, the fucking Dread Wolf, ancient commander of wars long forgotten. Since joining me, my companions have made mincemeat of any demons in our path.  Pride makes them all look like idiots.

 

Having lost track of how many times I’ve disrupted the stupid rift, I’m left panting, exhausted, and alone.  Everyone else has fallen.  They’re all laying on the ground, groaning.  Pride is still standing, electricity crackling over its body, and it laughs again. “Herald of Andraste.”  And the damn thing can talk. Of course it can.  “You stand alone Herald of Andraste.  You will not lead them.  You will fall.  The dawn will not come.”

 

“Strange,” I lean on my staff and do my best to stall it.  I can see Varric’s hand inching towards his potion belt, I need to buy them time, I have no offensive spells, I need them to defeat the demon for me.  “I appear to standing. I’m surrounded by people.  And yes the dawn will come.”

 

Clearly I’m more hilarious than I think I am, because it’s laughing at me, again. “Herald of Andraste, your companions have fallen around you, and you will fall next.”  It has a point. There’s only so long I can fade step out of its path.  And since it’s a demon it’ll be able to read my mind, so it’ll know exactly where I’ll teleport to.  It bares its teeth at me, “Yes, you understand now. You are nothing. You bring nothing with you. You cannot win. You will never be enough to save anyone. Your fall is inevitable.”

 

Damn but this demon reminds me of my ex-husband. He was the same when he walked out on me and the kids. Told me I was nothing. Told me I should just give up the kids, let him pack them off to boarding school, so I could devote all my time and effort to him, because of course it was my fault he had the affair. Screw that. I am enough. I’ve always been enough.  “Banal nadas,” I refute the demon’s words, and ignore Solas’ loud gasp.

 

“But it is certain,” The bloody demon goads me. “The mark buried in your hand was never meant for you. Even if you survive everything in your path. Even if you succeed in the tasks you were sent here to complete. The mark will kill you. At best you will lose your arm. You will fall. You have travelled so far, given up so much already, and your only reward will be your death, or the death of your arm.”

 

Snorting at its crappy attempts to get under my skin, I shake my head, “I knew the price I’d have to pay, before I was even sent here.  My arm, or my life.” Most probably my life. I don’t know anything about combat, or how to navigate the politics in this world.  I’ll probably get taken out by a sheep, or stepped on by a druffalo.  I’m probably going to be the shortest lived Herald ever.

 

“And yet you came,” It turns out pride demons can smirk.  “Even knowing your fate. Foolish woman.  Turn from this path. Join with me instead.” It points at Cassandra, “No one is worthy of the sacrifice you will be forced to pay.  What could ever drive you to such an unforgiving future?”

 

Varric’s drunk his potion, and he’s reaching for another.  Solas is grimacing at the lyrium potion he’s downing.  Leliana’s face is twisted into a silent snarl and she getting ready to drink a healing potion.  Cassandra looks like she wants to kill the demon with her bare hands, even as she reaches for another potion.  The scouts, mages, and Templars, are all following suit.  I need to buy them more time.  I have to keep it talking. Talking is better than fighting, what’s the worst that could happen?  And hopefully they can take it down on round two of the boss fight.

 

“Love,” I answer it honestly, it’ll know if I lie.  For my family.  If I can do enough here, it will help to hold a wall up. A special wall between all our worlds and this one, so when Solas destroys this world, the wall will stop the destruction breaking through to us. “My life for theirs.”  And that’s worst case scenario.  Best case, we build up enough ‘wall’ to turn the tide, and we can reach out to help this world too.  To save it from all the horror that will descend on it.

 

Baby Cassie will live to see her first birthday, and many more after that.  My children, my friends, they will all live to see another day.  And maybe, just maybe, people in Thedas will get a shot at life too.

 

“Love?” Now the demon shakes its head.  “Love is weakness. Your sacrifice will be in vain Herald of Andraste.  Just as Andraste’s was.”  Yeah, but she didn’t really choose that, she was betrayed, and yes you could make the same link to Solas, but he doesn’t really betray the Inquisition.  He makes the shittiest of life choices instead, and the world pays for them.

 

“Love is not weakness,” There is almost nothing I wouldn’t do for my children.  Never get between a true mother and her children. Not unless you want to lose body parts.

 

“But you cannot walk your path alone Herald of Andraste.  You must gather your companions as you go. You are the point around which the world will turn, but without them all, your efforts will be as nothing.  Miss even one, and your precious light will be lessened.”  It crosses its arms and cocks its head at me.  “You’ve found four of them already. Or did they find you?”

 

It’s an effort not to look at the four I think its talking about.  I stay silent and let it do all the heavy lifting in this conversation.  Nodding, it points a finger at Cassandra again, “The last true Seeker in all of Thedas, there are no others but her.  You believe her faith is her shield, that none will break it.  Stalwart, she’d be a pillar for you to lean on, even as you reach out to reorder the world.”

 

Shifting its attention to Leliana it gives that annoying booming laugh, “The Rose of Ferelden.  Her beauty is heart stopping. But her thorns are deadlier than even her beauty.  Any who stray close to her thorns are ripped apart.”  Actually that’s not far off what I think of Leliana.  Though I really don’t need her to know that, at this point in her life, she’d probably stab me.

 

“Varric Tethras,” It rumbles.

 

“Oh shit,” Is whispered by its next victim.  Who necks what looks like his last healing potion.

 

“Paragon,” The demon carries on like there was no interruption. “Wordsmith. A bedrock of loyalty.  Foundations built there could give you the strength to shake the world to its very core.”  He stood by Hawke though thick and thin, even standing against Cassandra for Hawke.  And then he stood by the Herald as they fixed the sky.

 

“And Solas,” My eyes widen as it points at the Dread Wolf.  Oh this could go so very wrong right now.  How the hell do I get a giant pride demon to shut up? “Lone,” It pauses for a second, “Mabari of Dreams.  Too long he’s been alone.  Will he realise he only has to reach out to you to find a new pack mate?  One that will always stand by him?  And he will fetch you pearls of wisdom, knowledge lost to the ages, the beginning steps to understanding the past, so the future can happen.” I breathe out in relief, that wasn’t so bad.  Solas has gone very pale, but even if the demon outs him as the Dread Wolf, I’m keeping him.

 

“And down the mountain, the Lion of Ferelden is roaring.  All grown up from the frightened little cub he used to be.  A pity, his screams were so very pretty, to our ears” I bristle at its words about Cullen.

 

“You’re welcome to try and make him scream,” I bite out.  “Though as you’ve mentioned he’s all grown up now.  You’ll find he’s not such easy prey anymore.  If you want, we can send someone to go get him.” Yes, let’s fetch Cullen, and what’s left of the armed forces on the mountain.

 

“That will not be necessary,” It bares its teeth at me again.  “How will you find the Queen of Words?  So many in this world have silver tongues, and hers is golden, as it drips honeyed words.  The world will bow to her without her ever having to lift a hand.” Queen of Words? Ah it means Josie.  And Leliana will bring her to the Inquisition.

 

“Then there is Mischievous Chaos, all wrapped up in tricky mayhem, inside laughter.  Her key is always arrows.”  Sera, its talking about Sera.  The bubbly elf who will find me and lead me a merry chase to meet her. “A broken heart of tears. Her mask is glittering ice, but inside she is bleeding. Never safe. Playing games until she forgets the why, struggling to be relevant.”  Who?  Wait, glittering ice, ah Vivienne.  And the broken heart must be because of Bastien, when he dies.

 

“What of the unmoveable wall of black, your enemies will crash against him, he’ll break them on his shield, but will he survive the path of true redemption? It is harsher than any can every imagine,” Okay that one was easy, Blackwall, the fake Warden.

 

“And the last two, the dragon slowly waking, unknowingly reaching for his freedom. Discarded, abandoned, they don’t know what they’ve let slip through their fingers,” The only dragon I can think of is Vivienne, and then I want to facepalm. The Iron Bull.  He’s described The Iron Bull. “Finally, the betrayed, and lost son, searching for a place to call home, he wants to be enough, to find the family that accepts him.”  Another easy one; Dorian.  If he’s anything like he is in game, he’s more than welcome in the Inquisition.

 

Around me everyone is staggering to their feet. I guess the battle is gearing up to be back on.  Only the demon is just standing there watching me, it shakes its head, “Join with me Herald of Andraste. Together we will make the world turn to our whims, and wishes. I can save you.”  And then the bastard has the audacity to hold its hand out to me.  “There is no one else who can help you.  You cannot lead them.  You don’t know how.  You will fall.”

 

I know better than to accept its offer.  And yes it is right, no one can help me.  But I can learn to lead them. I know some of the big decisions and the consequences of them.  I’ll do everything I can to Herald correctly.

 

I blink as an idea occurs to me, “Wait.  You missed one.”  It was talking about the Herald’s companions and advisors, yet it didn’t mention Cole.

 

“No,” Its whip flares with deadly power as it throws its arm forward, propelling the weapon towards me.  Grabbing the Veil I pull myself out of the path of the attack.

 

“Yes,” I pop up next to Varric.  “You did.”  And why is it so upset about Cole?  Yes, he’s deadly.  And frankly he’s always made me wonder why Wisdom wasn’t able to do the same thing, just pull herself through the Veil, and save herself from those idiot mages who bound her.  If she was like Cole, she could either choose to become more like a sprit, and wear an amulet to protect herself from bindings. Or she could choose to become more human, and no binding could hold her.  And with Wisdom safe, the Dread Wolf would still have one of his oldest friends, and a valued confidant.  Would she be able to sway him from his destructive path?  Help him find a better way to save the elves?

 

“You will fall Herald of Andraste.  You will never find him.  You will fail,” Pride really doesn’t seem to like Cole.  Another whip is sent my way, causing Varric and I to run in opposite directions.

 

“Yeah?”  I taunt the damn demon back.  “Well I fully intend to find Compassion made flesh to help us.  He is a gift too wondrous to truly understand. He comes baring blades, and the hat is just a bonus.” Come on it’s Cole, and he’s on his own path to find redemption for his past actions and mistakes.

 

A stray thought plops into my head, many of the characters in Inquisition are seeking redemption of one kind or another.  Some are obvious, Blackwall for example.  The demon’s whip interrupts me, the tip barely glancing my right shoulder, but it’s enough to drop me to the ground, partly stunned.  Soothing blue covers me, and Solas is dragging me to my feet, as we also roll to one side, because the damn demon charges me.

 

It starts a completely different type of battle.  Its no longer interested in anyone else here, it simply wants me dead, or I think it does, as it heads straight for me ignoring any, and all, attacks hitting it.  I’m forced to keep standing still in order to disrupt the rift, and then I’m forced to run, fade step, or leap, out of its way.  Thankfully its singlemindedness works in our favour, everyone else is free to hit it as much as they want to, without having to worry about it hitting back.

 

With an almighty bellow, the demon falls, and unlike the game, its essence is drawn up into the rift.  Cassandra calls out, “Now. Seal the rift.”  I doubt she wants another big demon to come through.

 

“Hurry,” Solas runs up to me. I don’t think he’s even broken a sweat.  “Before more come through.”

 

I really want to say something sarcastic back, instead I nod, wheezing.  “Yes. Rift. Close.” I’m exhausted from getting away from the demon, this body is amazing, but running for your life is extremely draining. It also tagged me a few times, I know I’m hurt but the pain is fading, that’s a bad sign right?  I’d better get this done now, before I collapse. “Mages and Templars?”

 

“We’ll gather them,” He tells me and then he and Cassandra round them up.  They’re in much better shape than I am right now.  “Mages, Templars.  Focus past,” he hesitates and then says, “The Herald. Let her will draw from you.”

 

Thankfully there have been Heralds before me, so I simply grab the energy given to me.  Templar power in my right, I form it into a cylinder and aim it at the rift.  Mage power in my left, I channel it through the Anchor in my hand. It surges up the cylinder I’ve made to hit the rift head on.  This rift fights me, it’s partly fuelled by the Breach, so it’s much stronger.  It falls to the power I’m being given.  As it snaps shut, a surge of, what I can only describe as, riftness, shoots up to the Breach.  Automatically I follow it, casting the Templar power in front of me to line the way, I race up after it with the Mage power.  And as the residue from the rift reaches the Breach, I punch it as hard as I can, even as I’m drawn into a battle of wills to force it closed.

 

Loosing track of time I struggle against the Breach, I slip backwards as any momentum I had drains away.  Screaming, a strangely soundless, “NO! I have to close it!” I fall.

 

Arms wrap around me as my legs collapse.  I’m lowered gently to the ground.  Solas’ face is right in front of me.  His lips are moving but I can’t hear him.  “You know you have the cutest freckles, right?”  I can’t even hear my own voice. 

 

I can’t hear anything.

 

The last thing I see, as everything fades away, is Solas’ eyes, they look so sad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation: Banal nadas = Nothing is certain/inevitable.   
> My thanks to all who have puzzled over the tiny snippets of Elvhen given in the game, any credit to getting the language right goes to you, any mistakes are mine, and mine alone.
> 
> Apologies for how late this is. RL is being very busy. On the up side I'm an auntie now :)


	5. Heraldpedia

Soft whispering voices prod me from sleep.  Groaning I swat an arm at the sound, “Kids, turn the TV down, please.” Urgh, they’re probably piled in the living room, eating junk food, and squabbling over the remote. Damn their father for what he’s done to them.

“TV?” A feminine, yet strangely emotionless, voice questions.

Bolting upright, I blink when I find a glowing, see through, red woman, floating a few feet off the ground, in front of me. “Um,” I falter and start to take in my surroundings.

I’m standing in the middle of a huge round room.  It’s built of a light coloured wood. Instead of walls at the edges, there are alcoves.  In each alcove I can see a person.  They’re all different.  Humans, dwarves, elves, Vashoth. Male, female. I spin on the spot and there are lots of them standing there.  How many of them are there?

The woman answers me, “There are thirty previous Heralds on each level.”

What? I stare at her and try to understand what she’s just told me.  Plus, I may just count them myself. There really are thirty of them.  And each level?

“Look up,” She tells me, so I do.

I really shouldn’t have.  There are more alcoves. Each arranged one on top of the other, stretching up further than my eyes can see. I’m going to guess she’s right and that there are thirty of them on each level. I have no idea how many levels there are, and I’m fairly certain I don’t want to know the answer to that either.

“As you wish,” She says.

Previous Heralds?  I’m fairly certain I can guess at the answer but I want her to answer me all the same.

“You are correct.  Each alcove holds the image of one who was a Herald before you.  All the knowledge they have gathered is stored here in the Hall.” Oh shit, that’s a lot of Heralds. I let that sink in for a while, before I turn to her and wonder who she is.  “I am the Archivist.  Herald Methriacarith found me, and restored me.  He brought me here to the Hall to organise the records.  They were not organised at all.  Since that moment, I have served the Heralds in their Hall.  All of their knowledge is ready, and available, to each Herald.  How might I aid you Herald Petal in your tasks?”

Oh. I have my very own Heraldpedia. Or would that be Inquistorwiki?  Or Codex of Heralds?

Shaking my head, I gaze around the Hall, and realise my mind is utterly blank. I have no idea what to ask her.  It’s like sitting in front of an internet search engine and being told you can look up anything you want.  But what do you look up first?

“What do people usually ask you?” I flounder, and wonder if there’s a list of frequently asked questions, it might help start me off in the right direction.

As she’s see through, I can’t make out any real features on her, so I can’t read her expression, if she has any that is.  “It depends on their homeworld, their ‘class’ in this world, their original gender, their old race, their new race, their new gender. So far I have been unable to find any pattern in first questions asked of me.”

Okay, that wasn’t particularly helpful.  Though I doubt being the Herald is an easy job, so why should this part be easy?  Sitting down cross-legged on the floor, I cross my arms, and try to think this through.

Running through her answer to me I try and extrapolate from there.  Class.  Well I’m a mage, so I’m going to have to learn more about the Fade, how to avoid getting possessed, how to not accidentally corrupt any spirits I stumble upon, how to avoid Solas discovering this Hall, and how to cast spells that might be useful in a fight.  I was useless against the Pride demon, I had to be saved by the others.

“The Fade,” She starts to answer my vague thoughts on what questions I should ask.  “It existed before the Veil.  It was part of the waking world.  Spirits, and those you know as demons, lived alongside corporeal beings.  That which is called magic flowed freely everywhere. Dragons fed on it and gained sentience. All Elvhen could wield it to a lesser or greater degree. Titans trapped it in their blood, and made their children to serve them, and their hive mind. Humans struggled with it, but lived with it.

“Fen’Harel spun the Veil into existence from his very life essence, his soul, and spread it across all of this planet-sphere.  He trapped the Fade on one side. On the other he caged the corporeal world. The jail of the ancient Elvhen that thought themselves gods is twofold.  A key must be found on each side of the Veil to release them.”  Oh wow, she really is a mine of information.  My mind swims with everything she’s told me so far. She’s confirmed so much and added so much more.

“If Fen’Harel dies, so does the Veil.  If the Veil is destroyed, so is Fen’Harel.” She continues on like she hasn’t just dropped a bombshell in my lap.

“What?” I croak it out while I mentally scrabble to catch up with her.  Did she really just say what I think she just did? And how did we get here from my original thought of learning about the Fade?

“The Fade is confined by the Veil, and they are linked in all things. You cannot learn of the Fade without learning of the Veil. Of Fen’Harel. Your world, all the worlds of the Heralds, are destroyed after the death, or destruction, of Fen’Harel,” She informs me.  “The smallest number of his deaths occur whilst he stands protected at the side of the Herald. The next highest number of his deaths, are when he destroys the Veil, and therefore himself, before the corrupted Elvhen deities sweep out unopposed, and crush all the worlds. The greatest number of his deaths occur in the Inquisition power bases of Haven, and Skyhold, at the hands of disgruntled Inquisition forces, including previous Heralds.”

Reeling I put my head in my hands, “So you’re basically telling me if Solas dies, it kick-starts the end of all our worlds?”  The one person I’m still so angry at, is the one person I have to protect, from everything.  And Thedas is a very dangerous place for an Elvhen mage.

“Yes. Solas is the master key to their prison.  If he falls, all the worlds will fall.” God I hope she’s wrong.  Somehow I doubt it.

“Fifty-Nine Heralds ago was the last mage Herald.  She completed a work started by, and continued on by, twenty-three other mage Heralds.  With it, any mage will be protected by possession, will see a spirit or demon for their true selves while dreaming in the Fade, will always interact with a spirit without fear of corrupting the spirit, will sense the presence of demons and spirits in the corporeal waking world.”

“Whoa,” I stumble to my feet.  She is throwing too many big Lore shattering things at me.  “Are you telling me there’s a way to protect the mages, and me, against possession, and protect the spirits from us at the same time?”  Yes, I know that’s what she’s just told me, but I need to make sure I’ve not misheard her.

“Yes Herald Petal.  You are the first mage Herald since the final completion of the work to ask about these things.  Do you want the schematics?”

Fuck me, yes, I totally want the schematics.

“As you wish Herald,” She says, and then in mid-air, glowing lines start to form.  They snake around and form diagrams, with large numbers of notes, until a hologram is complete. At first glance it appears to be a type of fingerless glove.  It doesn’t look like it should work, only if you dig into the hologram, pulling it apart and magnifying it, does it work.  Somehow these Heralds have managed to create the spiritual equivalent of a force field.  The device is built to resonate at multiple, harmonious ‘frequencies’ and its powered by an alternating trickle current of mana from the mage, and the Fade itself. The principle at the heart of it is very simple. At no point can the mage and any spirit, whether benign or malignant, touch.  No touch means, no possession, and no possible corruption.

An interesting side-effect of the device is that the mage is blocked from using blood mage, as the mage can’t ‘touch’ the essence stored in the blood of living creatures.  I’m not sure how it reacts to lyrium, I think it disrupts the mage from fully absorbing mana/Fade magic from the substance.

In the game Cole was always talking about songs.  This thing makes a multi layered song, one the demons can’t broach, and one that shields spirits from us.

If Divine Justinia had, had these, the war would have been over. She would have brought peace to Thedas.  As long as they wear these, all mages in Thedas are safe from possession.  The biggest threat to mages, and the greatest fear of everyone else, has now been eliminated.

“Oh my god,” I mutter and stare at the hologram some more.  Whoever these mage Heralds were, they’ve given me, and every Herald after me an amazing gift.

“Does this answer your earlier questions Herald Petal?” She asks me, calmly.

“Yes,” I whisper and just keep staring at the hologram.

“No one but you may enter the Hall of Heralds, it stands alone. It is not of the waking world.  It is not of the Fade.  Only Spirits, and Fen’Harel, have the capability to enter as your specially invited and welcomed guest.  Spirits that have visited have yet to have any negative effect on a Herald.  Fen’Harel has visited only once before, he murdered the Herald that brought him here, he acted rashly and didn’t understand the consequences of any of his ill thought out actions.”

Yeah, ‘cos he never acts rashly, ever.  Oh wait, that’s kind of his MO.  Sighing I rub my face and nod, “Okay so never invite Solas to the Hall. I can do that. I like not being murdered.”

I may have been studying the hologram, but part of me had been thinking about her earlier words, and I have a new question for her.  “When Fen’Harel dies in Haven, or Skyhold, what percentage of those deaths are at the hands of a Herald?”

“Ninety-nine point nine percent are at the hands of a former Herald,” Is the answer, and I’m unsurprised by it.  All of our worlds died because of him.  All of our families, our friends, our everything, is gone because of him.  Because of his stupidity, because he has no concept of ever being wrong.  And I can’t do a thing to him, because if he dies I automatically fail.

I probably wouldn’t have killed him in Skyhold.  Though part of me wants to.  To let him lead us to the fortress where the Inquisition can grow, spread, and ultimately give me a base to bring about the final fight and the defeat of Corypheus.  There is a part of me that has hung in timeless nothingness, and dreamed of walking up to Solas as he paints a mural, of lifting my hands to his shoulders, rubbing gently, massaging him so he relaxes. And then running a blade over his throat.  Red would spurt out to splash across the wall, duller than the colours he was painting.  If he is the one that brings about the end of my world? Then why not simply murder him before he can murder everyone?

I may be angry at him, and I am so very angry at him, but I hope I am the kind of person that wouldn’t have stooped to murdering him.  Though why should my children be dead, or far from me, while he gets to hum softly as he paints?

And now I understand why the Archivist told me about Solas being linked to the Veil. It’s so I won’t do anything stupid, like murder him, and bring about the end of the world myself.

“Yes,” She once again answers my unspoken thoughts. “It is time for you to wake up Herald Petal.  Your path awaits you. I look forward to more interactions with you in the future.  Please let me know if I may help you with any further enquires.”

I’m so not ready to deal with the waking world, and I have no idea how to deal with my grief, with my anger, and Solas.  But, the Hall starts to fade around me, and I guess it’s time I got on with Heralding.  My children’s lives depend on me doing a good job in Thedas.  Though I vow to myself to come back, this Hall is priceless, and it’s all mine.  If I can just work out how to use it properly I may live long enough to stop Corypheus, avenge Justinia, and repair the sky.


End file.
